


In Your Dreams

by da_petty



Series: Dream Weaver [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Faint brush of Case Fic that makes no sense and is unimportant to the plot, First Time, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Hickies, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sleepwalking, Slow Burn, Snogging, Tails, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-19 10:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13702539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: John sleepwalks - into Sherlock's bedroom. Sherlock suspects that John's not really asleep.Sherlock's right.





	1. At the Scene of the Crime

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the next chapter written for a week now, I just don't like it. I hope to post it soon. Sorry for the delay.

‘What’s that mark on your neck?’ Lestrade asked.

Sherlock looked up from the body he’d been examining.

‘What mark?’ He asked.

‘The one on the right side of your neck.’ Lestrade said, gesturing vaguely in Sherlock’s direction.

Sherlock gave John a dirty look, and said; 

‘A bruise.’ 

‘Well, I can see that but it...it LOOKS like a hickey.’ Lestrade said, astonished.

Once again, Sherlock gave John a dirty look and John smiled, somewhat sheepishly, back at him.

‘Fingerprint. There are probably more...elsewhere. Suspect tried to strangle me. I discouraged him.’ Sherlock said, glaring at John again.

‘Well, we’ve all wanted to do that.’ Lestrade said.

‘I know that I have.’ Said John with a smirk.

‘Pay attention, John. Come have a look at the body and tell me what you see.’ Sherlock interrupted.

John walked over and crouched down next to Sherlock. They both stared at the body in silence for a few moments until John said,

‘Looks to be in his late 30’s. Early 40’s. He was badly beaten.’

‘I concur.’ Using a gloved hand, Sherlock lifted up the victim’s hand, examining the palm.

‘Defensive wounds on the palm. He was holding his hands in front of him, palms out. That was most likely a placating move towards his attacker. Unsuccessful. Obviously.’ Sherlock turned the hand over.

‘No marks on the back of his hand so he didn’t have enough time to protect himself before he was hit over the head with something heavy.’ Sherlock looked around the alley.

‘I doubt the killer took it with him. It’s probably still here.’ Sherlock looked at Lestrade.

‘What’s Anderson doing? Where are the other officers? Why aren’t they searching for evidence.’

Lestrade sighed. ‘You know very well that you don’t get along with anyone from the Yard. And you’re the one who always demands that they leave while you study the crime scene. Convenient memory, Sherlock.’

Sherlock huffed a breath. ‘Well,’ he said, standing up. ‘I’m done here so now they can attempt to do their jobs to the best of their abilities which, granted, isn’t much.’

‘Did you have a look at the victim’s neck?’ Lestrade asked.

‘Yes. Of course. Why?’

‘Looks like the person who assaulted you last night, might also have strangled that man. The marks are similar to the one on your neck.’

Sherlock looked at Lestrade through narrowed eyes. Was Lestrade trying to be humorous?

Still looking at Lestrade suspiciously, he said, ’That’s highly unlikely.’ And removed the gloves with a snap. Pulling them inside out, he stuffed them in his pocket.

‘What do you think, John? Do you think it was the same assailant who attacked Sherlock?’ Lestrade asked.

Sherlock was almost positive that Lestrade was mocking him now.

‘I seriously doubt it. Looks like we’re dealing with a different attacker here.’ John said, and smiled at Sherlock.

‘We’re leaving.’ Sherlock reached over and grabbed the arm of John’s coat roughly. 

‘Ow!’ John exclaimed, rubbing his arm. ‘No need to pinch. I’m coming.’

‘Then hurry up.’ Sherlock said, dropping John’s arm and walking towards the street; John obediently following along.

‘Bruise, huh?’ Lestrade called out after John’s retreating back.

‘Loads of them! You should see his hip!’ John laughed and kept walking.

‘Good lord, they’re shagging.’ Lestrade thought. ‘Finally!’


	2. The Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John both having something special planned for bedtime.

John and Sherlock stood at the curb, looking for a taxi to hail. Sherlock finally broke the silence.

‘We need to talk about your problem, John.’

John looked at him. ‘Problem?’ He asked.

‘Yes, you know. You’re 'sleepwalking' problem? It’s been three nights in a row now that you’ve randomly shown up in my bedroom waking me from a sound sleep by peppering me with kisses and sucking on my neck...,’ here Sherlock blushed. ‘This needs to stop before I become anemic.’

‘I honestly don’t know why that keeps happening. I keep dreaming about a faceless woman and we’re passionately kissing, next thing I know, I’m in your bed with you in my arms. It’s embarrassing. You could help by locking your door though.’ 

‘Why should I lock my door? You’re the one with the problem.’ Actually, Sherlock considered it more of an asset than a problem. 

He’d been wanting to kiss John for a long time now and the past three nights had been highly enjoyable. The first night, John had woken up, stammering, all embarrassment and apologies. The next night, same reaction only he didn’t seem as embarrassed and his apologies were tokens at best. Then, last night, Sherlock was fairly certain that John was only pretending to sleepwalk. It lasted a lot longer, for one thing, and the other? Sherlock blushed again. John had actually stroked Sherlock’s penis outside of his pajama bottoms and gotten him extremely hard before he “woke up”. 

John was obviously aroused too but before things could progress to touching skin on skin, he’d leapt out of bed and backed out of the bedroom, saying ‘sorry’, and slamming the door behind him. 

Each morning, neither one of them said a thing about what had happened the night before, although the tension was palpable by the third day. Very curious. 

‘We need to discuss this, John. Now.’ 

‘Taxi’s here!’ John said

‘We’ll discuss this later.’ Sherlock said firmly.

‘Yeah. Sure. Of course.’ John said as he opened the door and got into the taxi.

John was definitely avoiding the topic. Probably that ‘I’m not gay’ thing again. Maybe it had begun as sleepwalking but last night had been foreplay. Sherlock was sure of it. If John didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine - for now. But sooner or later, John would ‘sleepwalk’ into Sherlock’s bedroom again except this time, he’d be ready for him.

‘221b Baker Street.’ Sherlock said, settling into his seat.

Leaning forward, Sherlock said, ’Actually, you can drop me off at the nearest Chemist’s first.’

‘The Chemist’s? Are you feeling alright? Would you like me to go with you?’ John asked.

‘No need. I’m just picking up a few supplies for a new experiment that I’m starting.’

‘Experiment? Anything that I can help you with?’

‘Possibly. I’ll let you know if I need a hand.’ Sherlock smiled at John, then turned to look out of the window.

Sherlock wasn’t actually going to the Chemist’s. No. He’d be heading to the nearest erotica shop. He began mentally plotting his list;

‘Lube; prostate vibrator; and, just for the hell of it, possibly one of those fetish fox tail butt plugs.’

Sherlock would be ready this time and they were going to discuss the ‘sleepwalking’ in depth - repeatedly - whether John wanted to or not. Sherlock grinned. Yes. He’d be ready and waiting.

John glanced over at Sherlock and then turned back to look out the window then did a double take and looked at Sherlock again. He had a positively evil smile on his face. John gulped. He knew what that meant; Sherlock was up to no good. John knew without a doubt that the plot involved him but he couldn’t, wouldn’t ask. Not that Sherlock would tell him anything anyhow.

John closed his eyes and began to think about what Sherlock might have planned for him and found himself becoming aroused. Sherlock was a genius, after all, so anything he thought up was bound to be interesting. John couldn’t wait to go to bed. He was feeling sleepy already. Then it was John’s turn to grin. He’d be ready for anything that Sherlock planned to throw at him tonight.

They sat on opposite sides of the taxi, both looking out of their respective windows, grinning manically.

The taxi driver checked his rearview mirror. He didn’t like the look of these passengers. Something was up between those two and he wanted no part of it.

Fucking eerie bastards! He picked up speed; he needed them out of his taxi as soon as possible. 

He yelled, ‘Chemist’s!’, surprising John and Sherlock when he slammed on the brakes causing both to slip forward.

He watched as the tall one hurriedly left the taxi. And he pulled away from the curb, perhaps a little too quickly, causing John to slam back into his seat. ‘One down, one to go.’ The driver thought.

‘What’s the emergency?’ John asked.

‘Nothing, nothing.’ The driver replied. ‘I just thought that you might be in a hurry to get home and make supper for your boyfriend, is all.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend.’ John replied automatically.

‘Ah. Well, I’m sure that you two will work it out.’ God, let me just get rid of this fare and I’ll cut down on the cigarettes. I promise!

‘Uh, well, thanks.’ John said. He started thinking about what the driver had just said to him. ‘Boyfriend?’ 

The driver glanced back and that nutter was doing that creepy smile again. 

‘Here we are!’ The driver all but shouted out, hitting the brakes abruptly. John was expecting it this time though and had held onto the door.

‘Thanks. How much do I owe you?’ John said, pulling out his wallet.

‘No charge.’ The driver said, pushing the flag down and turning off the overhead ‘in service’ light. Yeah. He was definitely off to have a pint after this. It’d make a good story, at least.

‘No charge?’ John asked, puzzled.

Reaching back to John’s door, he pulled the handle and shoved it open.

‘Consider it my gift to you. I hope that you two will be very happy together.’ 

‘Um...thanks. Are you sure that you won’t accept any money?’

’No. It’s all good. Now, get out.’ He said abruptly.

‘Oh. Ok. Sorry.’ John hurriedly left the taxi, the door barely closing before the driver took off.

‘Why is it that I always get the nutters?’ John thought. Then he began walking to the front door, visions of a nude, long, lean detective in his arms, taking shape.

John opened the door and jogged up the 17 stairs to the flat. After fixing himself tea, he sat in his chair and waited for Sherlock to come home.

Taking a sip of very hot tea, John got comfortable, and waited...


	3. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best laid plan of mice and men often go awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I wanted it to be three chapters but these two chuckle heads do whatever they want and leave me to bat cleanup. Hopefully there will only be one more chapter after this.

It was late evening by the time Sherlock returned to the flat. It was completely dark; John must have gone to bed long ago. Sherlock smiled.

Carrying the bag into the kitchen, he set it on the table and walked over to hang up his coat. 

Returning to the table, he rolled up his sleeves and began digging through the bag, taking a second to look at each item in turn. When he’d reached the fluffy fox tail, he smiled and ran the soft faux fur through his fingers, picturing how it would look on John. Correction: how it would look IN John. Sherlock’s breath hitched at the thought and he stood there, staring into the distance, running the fox tail through his fingers over and over again.

Just then, there was a click and the soft light of a desk lamp appeared, its glow just illuminating John’s smiling face.

‘What do you have there, Sherlock?’

Sherlock shoved the tail back into the bag and rolled the top down, trapping everything inside.

‘Supplies. Experiment. Remember?’ He said quickly. 

John stood up, walked to Sherlock, and curiously inspected the bag that Sherlock now had pressed down against the table.

‘I hope there’s nothing breakable in there.’ John smiled.

‘No. No. It’s fine.’ Sherlock said, dragging the bag off the table and holding it protectively at his side.

‘You needn’t have waited up for me, John.’

‘I didn’t. I fell asleep in the chair and all of that bag crinkling woke me up.’ John smiled. Again. Sherlock was beginning to think that John knew he was up to something but how could that be? Sherlock was always ten steps ahead of everyone else - if they were able to catch up at all.

‘Well, I’m going to go to bed now.’ Sherlock said abruptly, bag clutched to his side, and turned to leave.

‘Right now?’ 

‘It’s midnight, John, and it’s been a long day.’ Sherlock said.

‘You’ve been getting a lot of sleep these past few days. That’s not like you. Are you sure that you’re feeling well?’

‘I assure you that I’m fine. Even I require the occasional nap.’ Sherlock continued on his way to his room when he heard John’s footsteps coming up behind him.

John stepped so close to Sherlock that he could feel John’s breath on his neck. This was a clear breach of personal space etiquette, and, with the exception of sleepwalking, unlike John. 

Sherlock could feel a blush stealing up his neck and over his cheeks - he was doing an awful lot of that lately - and turned back to look into John’s eyes.

John raised the back of his hand to Sherlock’s forehead. 

’You sure? You feel a bit feverish and your face is flushed.’ John lowered his hand to Sherlock's shoulder.

‘That’s just...I’ve been...it’s just from exertion. Good night, John!’ As Sherlock beat a hasty retreat to his bedroom, John called out;

‘I’ll be in to check your temperature later!’ This was followed by the click of Sherlock’s door closing and then his muffled reply of, ‘No. That’s alright! I’m fine.’

‘Yes. You certainly are,’ John said softly. ‘You certainly are.’ And then he headed towards his bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time. 

Closing his door, he hurriedly removed everything but his vest and boxers then paced nervously beside his bed for the next few moments until he finally decided to just lay down and wait. It was too soon to go back downstairs anyhow. He wanted to have at least a little plausible deniability in case things didn’t go well. Sherlock would never believe that he’d fallen asleep so quickly.

‘More waiting,’ he thought, impatiently. 

As John lay there thinking about the way things could go tonight, he developed an erection that demanded his attention. His first thought was that he should save it for Sherlock, just in case, but after 15 minutes, he’d done with waiting. Pulling his boxers down to just below his balls, he took himself in hand and closed his eyes and began imagining how things would go.

This lasted for approximately ten minutes before John’s cock decided that it’d done enough waiting and came with a spurt across his vest. 

‘God damn it!’ Sitting up, John tugged the shirt over his head and used it to wipe the come that had missed the shirt and landed on his lower abdomen. Throwing the shirt over the side of the bed, John lay back down, closed his eyes, and sighed. I’m just going to lay here for 15 more minutes and then I’m just getting back up and fix tea instead. That was his last thought before he slipped effortlessly into sleep.


	4. I Dream Of Johnny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock thinks about John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God. FFS! MORE pre foreplay?

Sherlock looked at his bedside clock. It was 2 am and still no John. Sherlock had been sure that John would be in again tonight. Maybe he was trying to trick Sherlock by mixing up his routine. Sherlock wasn’t sure how many more nights he’d be able to stand, well, sleeping. So much time wasted that could be better spent on looking at cold cases, playing the violin, on anything other than just laying in bed until he judged that enough time had passed for him to get up again.

Sherlock glanced at his clock again: 3 am. That’s it then, John’s not coming tonight. He had decided to just get up again when he realized that he was a bit tense. There was another way that he could spend his time. 

Opening up the middle drawer in his nightstand, Sherlock removed the bottle of lube that he’d placed there earlier from his shopping expedition. The drawer was full of Sherlock’s impulse buying spree at the erotica store. He’d gone a little over his original plan of three items. Now, in addition to the lube, prostate vibrator - which he’d been charging via a well hidden cable inside the drawer - and fox tail, he’d picked up a few, ok eight, other things that had grabbed his attention. He’d meant to pick one out of the eight but when he couldn’t decide which ones to put back, he’d just bought them all. He doubted that they’d go to waste.

He’d never used proper lube before. Hand lotion. Soap in the shower. And one time, duck fat, which had been a disaster. Those had been his favorite sheets but there’d been no saving them after that, so off they went to become rags for his experiments. Very expensive rags. And he’d never been able to stand the smell of duck again.

He wasn’t sure how much lube to use so he tried a small bit at first which barely covered his cock head. Clearly not enough. Multiplying the original bit by the amount of cock that it’d covered, he made a considerable increase and reapplied it. That was more like it!

Beginning at the base, he grasped his cock firmly and slowly slid up to the crown. This was a good start. Definitely a good start.

On the downstroke, he gave a little twist which caused him a shiver of excitement.

He teased himself slowly and began thinking of John.

Those navy blue eyes. The smug look that he got on the rare occasions that he was right about something. The fringe of hair above his brow. The way he smelled when he first got out of the shower...

John, with a towel around his waist, standing in the bathroom doorway, the light allowing a small peak through to his thighs. The outline of his cock, clearly visible beneath the towel.

And now Sherlock was pumping in earnest, breath stuttering.

His lips. The nights that he’d felt John slip into bed beside him. When he’d kissed Sherlock passionately and stroked his cock until he was harder than he could ever remember being in his entire life...

Sherlock’s muscles locked up as he came, shuddering as each pulse left his body. Then he relaxed back onto the bed with a sigh. His hand still on his cock.

Eventually, he pulled the pillowcase off of the pillow next to him and used it to clean himself. Throwing it over the side of the bed, Sherlock relaxed into the pillows with a sigh and realized that he actually was tired. He thought he’d rest his eyes for a few minutes and then get up. That was his last thought before he promptly fell asleep.


	5. Everybody Wants Some

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If John and Sherlock both desire each other, why the hell do they keep getting in each other's way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I thought this would be the last chapter but apparently, I have trouble getting to the point.
> 
> Not beta'd - as usual - but hopefully you'll enjoy it despite its flaws.

Three nights had passed and still no sleepwalking. John and Sherlock had spent their time in their rooms waiting for the other to make a move and then blaming each other for the lack of progress. They were irritable and short tempered. In Sherlock’s case, more so than usual.

The first morning, they’d entered the kitchen simultaneously, briefly made eye contact and quickly looked away, a scowl on both of their faces.

Although they were giving each other the silent treatment, neither knew it and so thought that they were being very successful in freezing the other one out.

The next day, they ramped up the passive aggressive behavior. John, slamming drawers, rearranging the dishes, and typing loudly on his laptop. Sherlock, repeatedly sighing, slamming his bedroom door, and running scales on his violin - for hours. They were sure that they were each letting the other know of their displeasure.

By day three, they’d finally realized that they were being completely ignored by the other and were highly offended. They still weren’t on speaking terms but at least they both realized that the other was ignoring them. Now they were doubly irritated.

On the fourth night, John finally broke.

‘What is your problem? Why are you so mad?’ John asked.

‘Why am I so mad? Why are you so mad? You haven’t spoken to me in days.’

‘Well, you haven’t been speaking to me either.’

‘You seem to have solved your sleepwalking problem.’ Sherlock said abruptly.

‘Yeah. I haven’t been able to sleep. No sleep, no sleepwalking. It’s pretty simple.’

‘Why haven’t you been sleeping?’ Sherlock asked with interest, his attitude suddenly changing.

‘Well...um...’ John didn’t want to tell Sherlock that he’d been waiting for him to fall asleep for days so that he could ‘sleepwalk’ into his bedroom. So he sighed, and said, ‘I was afraid I’d wander into your room again and wake you up. Why haven’t you been sleeping?’

‘Haven’t been tired.’ Sherlock said nonchalantly but on the inside, he was jumping for joy. John still thought that Sherlock was fooled by his ruse! Good, old, innocent John. He’d actually been trying to be considerate. It was always on Sherlock to fix these things, so he put his plan into action immediately.

‘I’m going to bed!’ He announced suddenly, bouncing up from the sofa. ‘I suggest you do the same.’ And headed into his bedroom.

‘Good idea!’ John said, and hurried to his own room.

John changed into his pajamas and lay down on top of the covers waiting for Sherlock to fall asleep.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was pulling on his pajama bottoms but thought that maybe he’d been too subtle before, so he left them off and then slid naked between the cool sheets. Now it was just a matter of convincing John that he was asleep. 

He lay very still while his mind was busily planning the use of his new toys. There were a couple in there that he didn’t really understand but he was confident in his ability to figure it out. It shouldn’t be difficult. There were only so many ways that those things could be used. He could have Googled it but he was a genius, after all. Why waste time.

He lay with his arms behind his head and waited...

***

Two hours had gone by without a sound from Sherlock’s room so John got out of bed and flung open his bedroom door - quietly - and began his descent, being careful to take his time and avoid any squeaky boards. He’d be damned if he’d ruin this now by waking Sherlock.

He hadn’t masturbated in days and to say that he was frustrated was an understatement. If things didn’t go well this time, he’d give up. He didn’t think that he could wait another day. If Sherlock wasn’t interested, he’d accept it and move on. Maybe not happily, but he’d move on.

***

Two hours later, Sherlock had unintentionally fallen asleep and in his dreams; he was no longer waiting.

***

Easing the door open, John crept quietly into Sherlock’s room and stood at his bedside, gazing at him longingly. Although his mouth was open a bit, Sherlock was still gorgeous. John had no idea how that was possible but leave it to Sherlock to be different.

John lifted the top sheet and gradually slid in until he was touching a deliciously warm Sherlock. Wait. A deliciously warm and very naked Sherlock. Seconds before his brain had caught up, John’s cock immediately sprang to full attention. Had Sherlock deliberately slept in the nude, expecting John’s appearance? He wasn’t sure; Sherlock slept in the nude often so, unlike his cock, he tried not to get his hopes up.

Turning onto his side, he placed his right hand on Sherlock’s hip, holding it there for a moment, just enjoying the first touch of skin on skin and gave a shiver of excitement. John couldn’t resist pressing his cock against Sherlock’s thigh. 

Stopping himself - he’d be full on humping him otherwise - he slowly moved his hand further down, just grazing Sherlock’s cock. He’d just gotten to the top of his thigh when his brain caught up with his hand and realized something. Sherlock’s cock was completely hard. Thinking that this required further investigation, he moved back up as quickly as he dared, and lay his palm over the silky hardness, then grasped it firmly in his hand and squeezed, reflexively humping Sherlock’s thigh again.

Sherlock thrust into his hand and John held his breath, waiting to see if he’d woken him. When no further movement occurred, he began to give Sherlock’s cock long, languorous strokes causing his own cock to demand attention. 

He pressed his erection against Sherlock’s thigh again but this time, held it there, keeping almost unbearably still. Just that much contact satisfied him enough so that he could continue on. It was a near thing, but he’d waited this long and wasn’t about to spoil it by coming all over Sherlock’s leg. Oh, god, what a thought! John pressed a little more firmly but froze when he heard Sherlock moan.

‘John. Please. More.’ And then he thrust up into John’s hand again more forcefully than before. 

Although encouraged by hearing his name on Sherlock’s lips, he wasn’t quite ready for him to wake up yet, so John stopped what he was doing and waited a minute to see if Sherlock settled back down into a deeper sleep.

Sherlock moaned and thrust a few more times, but his body relaxed when he received no further stimulation. His cock was still interested though and John wasn’t about to let that go to waste. 

The position wasn’t optimal so John slowly dragged the covers down and sat up. Kneeling by Sherlock’s side, he trailed light kisses down his side, until he’d reached his goal. 

He hadn't been able to see Sherlock’s cock under the covers in the dark - and he’d really tried - but was content with his progress and decided that, if things went well, he’d see it later. Bending over, he held Sherlock’s cock to his lips and began licking the crown.

Once Sherlock was moaning again, he took his cock into his mouth and sucked. Once, twice, coating it with his saliva allowing him to move more easily up and down his length. 

Tightening his lips, he slowly advanced as far down as he was able - he was no pro at this - and then slid back up just as slowly. As he began to pick up the pace, he felt Sherlock’s hands in his hair while simultaneously thrusting upwards causing John to choke. After a brief hesitation, John began to slide up and down his cock in earnest then Sherlock moaned again. 

‘John. John. John. I’ve wanted you for so long...’


	6. Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlocks gots feels. Lots of 'em.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, fuck me but this story won't end! You'll see that I start out fully intent on just writing the sex scene and then signing off. Unfortunately, Sherlock decided that he needed a damned flashback. I told him that it was completely unnecessary to the story but he went off on a tangent so I just gave in and wrote it down.

Sherlock slowly awoke to the feeling of warm wetness enveloping his cock. He’d been dreaming of John, on his knees in front of him, preparing to open Sherlock’s trousers, when he began drifting towards consciousness. If this was a continuation of that dream, though, he didn’t want to wake up.

He’d never felt anything quite like it before, although he’d fantasized about John doing this very thing, more than once. He was impressed at how vivid his imagination was considering it was based on absolutely no prior data. 

He’d thought about sex growing up. Despite being a genius, he still had a cock and the rampant hormones to go with it. He did attract attention but it wasn’t the positive kind. Fellow students avoided him, saying that he was ‘weird’. 

It probably would have helped had Sherlock not enjoyed pointing out the details of things that while unimportant to an adult, were oh so important to a teenager. It seemed that his peers would rather not have their secrets exposed. Sherlock didn’t understand why what he did was so wrong. How could they actually believe that they had a secret in the first place? It was blindingly obvious to him. 

He was awkward and bashful in everything except his deductions, of which he was very proud. Rightfully so. A side effect of being proud was the need to show off and no matter how much he tried to stop himself - truthfully, he hadn’t tried all that hard - the words would come pouring out. He was filled with the need to prove that he was better, smarter, sharper, than everyone else and it cost him.

He’d spent his school years, up to, and including university, being a loner. Past experience had taught him to be wary of offers of friendship. He was either used for his intelligence - “How about the answers on the next exam?” - or drawn into a group only to be used as the butt of the jokes - "Hey! How about someone throw Holmes a pity fuck?". No. He decided. He didn’t have any friends and he’d decided that he was perfectly content alone. People were such a nuisance anyway. 

Unfortunately, no friends meant no social life, and no social life meant no significant other. Sherlock convinced himself that he was asexual; he wasn’t attracted to anything other than facts and the fact was, people weren’t worth the bother, so he dismissed the longing that he’d had for companionship and immersed himself in learning and, later on, drugs. 

Eventually, he’d met Lestrade who’d gotten him off the streets and helped him become clean. Oh, the longing for drugs was still there, and sometimes he still used but that was only when he was working on a particular problem and not due to any lack of willpower on his part. He could, and did, stop anytime he liked. He was the only one who believed that though, so he did his best to avoid being caught during those times when he felt the need to imbibe.

Then, one day, John had walked into the lab looking for a flatmate and Sherlock had been instantly captivated. Sherlock had dazzled John with a few quick deductions and basked in John’s undisguised admiration. He’d wanted to, no, needed, to get to know this fascinating man. 

That’s when he had the first inkling that he might be gay and it was a relief to find himself sexually attracted to anyone, no matter their sex. He did consider that he would have been attracted to John had he been a woman, but as John was clearly a male, that theory would never be tested. 

John was loyal, he was trustworthy, and he genuinely seemed to care about Sherlock. He protected him, looked out for him, and defended him fearlessly against Mycroft. Not that he’d let John know any of that. He didn’t want to show any weakness or seem needy. So, much like the rest of his true feelings, he’d kept that to himself.

Two years had gone quickly by in - mostly - harmonious cohabitation. Certainly, they’d had rows but the anger never festered. And, if Sherlock was honest with himself, that was completely due to John’s willingness to make the first overture and compromise. If it’d been left up to Sherlock, they wouldn’t have made it past the first week, much less two years. 

Eventually, Sherlock came to realize that he might actually be in love with John. However, he didn’t have anything to compare it to, so he just kept it to himself assuming that the feeling would eventually go away. It didn’t. Instead, he became increasingly attracted to John and would use random excuses to touch him. One time, touching his shoulder to emphasize a point, another time, placing his hand upon John’s back, guiding him out of Lestrade’s office.

Then, one day at a crime scene, Sherlock had insulted Anderson, as per usual, and, as usual, Anderson exploded only this time he’d done more than sputter. This time he’d actually had something to say.

“Go fuck yourself, Holmes. It’s obvious that no one else has applied for the job.” And then Anderson had stalked off. Lestrade had made some excuse to leave and followed after Anderson, planning on reprimanding him. Sherlock might be an arse but that hitting below the belt.

As much as Sherlock hadn’t wanted to admit it, that barb had struck home and for a second, the hurt had shown on his face. That’s when he’d looked up to find John standing there, quietly watching and waiting. He didn’t try to give Sherlock any platitudes, he didn’t try to get Sherlock to talk about it, he just gave Sherlock time to pull himself together and they’d carried on. In that moment, he’d given the last piece of his heart to John and had never looked back.

Of course, that was all well and good but six months later and Sherlock still hadn’t said a word to John about his feelings and likely never would. He couldn’t take the chance that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. He couldn’t lose John’s friendship. And so, he continued to tell himself that he was satisfied with the random touches, and gazing at John longingly when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Then, two months later, Sherlock found out that John was a sleepwalker and everything had changed.


	7. I Want Some Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're both wide awake now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to end this, I swear!

Previously...

***  
Sherlock slowly awoke to the feeling of warm wetness enveloping his cock. He’d been dreaming of John, on his knees in front of him, preparing to open Sherlock’s trousers, when he began drifting towards consciousness. If this was a continuation of that dream, though, he didn’t want to wake up.

 

***

It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Sherlock to reach down and run his fingers through dream-John’s hair. The feeling was unbelievable. The warm wetness moving slowly up and down his cock was driving him crazy. 

Seeking more of this wondrous feeling, he thrust upwards but met resistance and everything stopped. Then, Sherlock began pumping the head of his cock in and out of John’s mouth shallowly. The feeling of the crown as it passed over John’s lips was amazing.

‘John. John. John. I’ve wanted you for so long...’ He murmured.

***

John allowed Sherlock a few strokes before putting a hand on his hip and pulling them over until they were both laying on their sides. It was much easier to take more of Sherlock’s erection into mouth this way. He picked up speed, occasionally licking and sucking at the head of his cock.

Another thing resulting from the new position; Sherlock was able to push his cock deeper into John’s mouth causing John to choke again. He wrapped three fingers around Sherlock’s cock in order to protect his throat from the deepening thrusts. He could tell that Sherlock was a bit frustrated by this; he kept trying to force his way through the barrier, but John refused to budge and they finally moved together in contented rhythm.

John was so focused on his task that it took him a second to realize that Sherlock now had his hand on his cock outside of his pajama bottoms. He was stroked a few times before Sherlock began pulling them down, John lifting his hip to help. And then Sherlock’s mouth was on John’s hard cock, licking and stroking him until he thought that he might explode from the pleasure.

John’s concentration had been broken the moment that he felt the first lash of Sherlock’s tongue. Then, Sherlock swallowed him down and John couldn’t think, could barely do anything but feel. He gave Sherlock’s cock the occasional distracted lick while his face nestled close to Sherlock’s balls. John inhaled the warm, musky scent of him, and sighed.

He wasn’t going to last much longer like this and he was beginning to wonder why he’d want to. Then he stopped thinking altogether.

***

Sherlock had completely woken up when John had turned them onto their sides. Finding himself face to groin with John’s cock, he took his hand and placed it on the throbbing erection, reveling in it’s firm thickness. He nuzzled John’s cock with his nose and inhaled deeply, enjoying the concentrated scent that was all John.

No longer content just to breath John in, he began tugging his pajama bottoms down until John lifted his hips, allowing Sherlock to drag them off giving him complete access. 

He tentatively licked the glans and then wrapped his lips around John’s cock, taking as much of him in as possible. He felt all movement cease from John but he didn’t care; he was too busy exploring the texture and taste of John’s cock on his tongue. He’d been wanting to do this for so long and didn’t need any distractions. And John’s mouth on his cock was very distracting.

Sherlock wanted to feel more. He pulled off of John, causing a moan of complaint, and reached awkwardly into his nightstand for the lube he’d just purchased. Squeezing a large amount onto his index finger, he turned back and immediately sucked John’s cock back down, resulting in a lusty moan from John.

He had placed his hand on John’s hip, lubed finger up, holding him still while he attended his cock. Once he felt sure that John was completely distracted, he moved his hand to one cheek and then slid his fingers slowly down John’s crack. He felt John give his cock a hesitant lick. Almost as if he was asking what was going on.

Reaching John’s tightly furled hole, Sherlock ran his index finger lightly around the rim, paying attention to John’s reactions. No complaints so far...Sherlock pressed the tip of his finger against the opening and waited for a reaction. Another tentative lick was John’s response and Sherlock took that as the go ahead that he needed and began slowly inserting his finger into John’s hole. 

When he’d entered all the way to his third knuckle, he paused, giving John a chance to get used to the feeling. Then he began sliding his finger, oh so slowly, in and out. That’s when John took his cock completely into his mouth and began licking and sucking frantically, apparently happy with the direction they were headed. 

The room was silent except for the heavy breathing and sound of exuberant cock sucking. 

John reached a hand out and slid it up Sherlock’s thigh, over his hip and onto his ribcage until he’d reached Sherlock’s elbow then he squeezed, breaking Sherlock’s concentration. 

Sherlock removed his finger and placed his hand on top of John’s. John turned his hand palm up and they linked hands as they continued pleasuring each other.

John unclasped their hands and lightly gripped Sherlock’s index finger where the lube had all but vanished. Taking this as a hint to add more, Sherlock reached for the bottle one handed, and added more to his finger. He was about to begin fingering John again when he felt John smooth his finger along Sherlock’s, transferring some of the lube to his own index finger. 

John moved his hand to Sherlock’s taught buttocks, spread his cheeks and teased his finger around Sherlock’s hole. As he felt the finger ease inside of him, it was Sherlock’s turn to freeze. It felt amazing and then John began pumping his arse slowly, causing Sherlock to shudder on each gradual withdrawal.

He realized that he’d been neglecting John and slowly added another finger. John moaned around his cock and stiffened. Then he, too, added another finger to Sherlock as they both continued suck each other’s cock with varying degrees of firmness and speed. 

Once they’d both gotten to their respective third fingers, they both paused, and, as if planned, looked at each other and said simultaneously; 

“I want to fuck you.”

Then they both grinned at each other like lovesick fools.


	8. Moving Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rock, paper, scissors? John and Sherlock decide who's going to bottom. The answer won't surprise you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. One way or another, this fic is ending in the next chapter.

Previously

***

Once they’d both gotten to their respective third fingers, they both paused, and, as if planned, looked at each other and said simultaneously; 

‘I want to fuck you.’

Then they both grinned at each other like lovesick fools. 

***

‘How do we decide who will be penetrated first?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Have you had anal sex before? Given or received?’

Sherlock shook his head in the negative.

‘And, you? Have you ever given or received anal sex before, John?’ 

‘Given but never received. That hasn’t exactly been on my wish list.’

‘I’d never given a thought to it myself. Until tonight.’ Sherlock said, giving John a sultry look and sitting up.

‘And which way are you leaning tonight?’ Asked John, also sitting up.

‘Well, I greatly enjoyed penetrating you with my fingers, and I imagine the pleasure of penetrating you with my penis would feel exponentially greater due to the sheer volume of nerves located there.’

‘I can’t argue with that logic,’ said John with a laugh.

‘Obviously. I will cede that you’re more knowledgeable in this area. How do you suggest we proceed?’

‘Well, considering that I’ve had anal sex on more than one occasion,’ and here, Sherlock’s eyebrow raised. 

‘What? It’s something different to do.’ John said.

‘I’m sorry. Do go on.’ Sherlock said graciously.

‘I’m experienced in that area, so to speak, it might be better that I give and you receive the first time. Just to give you an idea of what to do.’

‘John, I’m fairly certain that insert tab A into slot B, isn’t beyond me,’ Sherlock said in a huff.

‘Yes. Those are the mechanics but there are things that need to happen first, before any tabs or slots get together.’

‘Do tell, Doctor. I’m all ears.’

‘Well,’ John blushed and looked away shyly. ‘I’d rather show you than direct you. This is already too much talking. My erection has wilted from the debate.’

‘Interesting. My penis is just as hard as before.’ Sherlock gestured to the aforementioned rock hard erection waiting patiently in his lap for things to proceed.

‘Well, that’s...oh my...that’s...impressive.’ John said, somewhat in awe.

‘Is there something wrong with your penis, then?’ Sherlock asked innocently.

‘What? No. Of course not! Most men will lose their erection when stimulation has stopped for a prolonged period of time.’ 

‘Not mine.’ Sherlock gestured down again.

‘Yes. I see that. Moving on...’ John reached over, grabbed a pillow and placed it on top of his lap, covering his now limp cock.

‘John. You have nothing to be ashamed of! According to my research, your penis is well above average in length and girth. I’m sure that you will acquit yourself admirably.’ Sherlock beamed at him.

‘Really? Um...thanks, I guess. You’re pretty gifted in that area yourself.’ John gestured vaguely in the area of Sherlock’s cock.

‘Yes. I know.’

‘Of course you do.’ John said, rolling his eyes.

‘What now? Oh! I bought several devices from the erotica store for us to try.’

‘Is that what was in that bag that you were guarding so closely.’ 

‘It was a surprise. I didn’t want to spoil it. I also didn’t know if you were ever going to pretend to sleepwalk into my room again so I wasn’t about to bring it all out before I had a firm commitment from you to proceed with intercourse.’

‘You’re not the most romantic man, are you, Sherlock?’ John smiled.

‘What’s romance got to do with this?’ Sherlock asked, truly puzzled.

‘Never mind. Let’s just see what you have before we do anything else.’

‘I thought you’d never ask!’ Sherlock got up, stood in front of his nightstand and removed the drawer, upending it on the sheets. 

Looking very proud of himself, he pointed to the not small pile of sex toys and said, ‘What do you think? Nice selection, right?’ Sherlock asked.

John sat staring at Sherlock’s treasure, his mouth gaping open.

‘Do you know what half of this stuff is for?’ John asked.

‘Sex. Obviously.’ Sherlock’s gaze skittered away and John knew that he was bluffing.

‘Ok.’ John said, pulling an item from the stack. ‘What’s this for, then?’

‘Well...it’s...for...’ Sherlock reached over and snatched it from John’s hand. Looking at the label, he read, ‘Edible panties.’ And looked triumphantly at John.

’Those are women’s panties, Sherlock.’

‘And?’

‘Actually, you could probably fit into them but I don’t really fancy eating the pants right off of you. The warmer things get, the stickier those panties become. It’s fairly gross, actually, so I’m going to take a pass on these.’ John tossed the pants over Sherlock’s head and somehow made it into the bin.

‘What about this?’ Sherlock asked holding up the next item.

‘I know that you don’t know what that is.’ John deadpanned.

‘Hah! That’s where you’re wrong! The woman in the shop explained it to me, it’s a...strap-on! That’s right. You wear this to have sex.’ Sherlock said, waving the strap-on at John.

‘Please put that down. We don’t need that.’

Dropping the strap-on, Sherlock asked, ‘We don’t? Why not? The woman said that many couples enjoy doing this.’

‘Yes. Many male/female and female/female couples enjoy using this but we’re both men.’ John looked at Sherlock expectantly, waiting for him to catch on.

‘What difference does that make? The woman assured me that these were all unisex.’ 

John reached over and removed the dildo from the harness. Pointing it at Sherlock, he asked,

‘And what would we do with this then? Hmmm?’

Sherlock might be a genius but he was out of his depth here and he knew it.

‘Um...well...’

‘This is an extra something that we don’t need. Get it?’ John waggled the dildo at Sherlock.

‘Extra. Extra?’ Sherlock paused for a moment, searching his brain for the answer.

‘OH!’ Sherlock blushed.

‘Yes. “Oh.” So we won’t be needing this either.’ He tossed the dildo into a corner of the room where it hit the wall with a thud...and stuck there.

Sherlock and John both stared at it jutting out proudly from the wall, then looked at each other.

‘Did you know that it did that?’ John asked.

’No. That’s news to me. Why on earth would you want something like that on your wall?’ 

John looked up from where he’d been shoving items around and just stared at Sherlock for a moment.

‘You know what? I’ll explain that later.’ And then continued sorting through the pile.

‘Useless.’ John threw another item away.

‘Painful.’ He said, throwing a dildo with rubber spikes into a different corner.

‘What? Why?’ John held up a delicate plastic device and turned it on where it commenced vibrating.

‘Might come in handy. You don’t know.’ Sherlock said defensively.

‘Yes. I DO know. I can almost guarantee that there won’t be any clitoris’ being stimulated in this room tonight.’ John tossed that into the corner with the spikey dildo where it buzzed around in circles before Sherlock walked over and clicked it off.

‘Honestly, John. Is all of this drama necessary?’

‘Yes. It is.’ Digging to the bottom, John held up another small device and said, ‘Now this is more like it!’

‘What? What’s more like it? Oh. The prostate massager. Yes. I found that interesting as well. I’ve read the directions but I’m still not quite sure how to use it. It’ll have to be a case of trial and error.’

‘Not on my arse, it won’t be. I’d prefer to wait until you’re a little more experienced in the use of these toys before you go digging around trying to locate my prostate like it’s buried treasure!’

‘But, John!’ Sherlock whined.

‘No. Absolutely not! I’ll be demonstrating how this works on you. Then you can experiment on yourself but you won’t be allowed near me with this thing until you know what you’re doing.’ John sat the massager next to him and patted it lovingly.

‘Fine. There are plenty of other things there that I could use.’ 

‘Sherlock. We won’t be using most of this stuff.’ 

John went through the remaining items, dismissing the majority of them almost immediately.

‘Nope.’

‘Why not?”

‘No tiger balm. You can use that on yourself but you’re not getting near me with it! And I strongly advise that you avoid it yourself.’ John said, setting the container on the nightstand.

‘Unnecessary.’

‘What’s wrong with that one?’ Sherlock asked.

‘It’s Anal-Ez. I plan on taking my time getting you ready and I want you to feel every bit of it.’

‘Oh.’ Said Sherlock, in a small voice.

‘Ok. We’re keeping this one.’ John said, showing the item to Sherlock. 

‘Anal beads? I hadn’t planned on getting those but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I added that to my basket as well. The clerk assured me that I’d enjoy them but they don’t look very comfortable to me. I bought them anyhow so she’d stop following me around.’

‘Ooh! Keeping this too!’ John held up a small jar.

‘What’s that?’

‘’Peter Butter’, butter rum flavored. I haven’t seen this in years! That goes over here with my ‘To Do’ pile.’

‘That’s another item that the woman pressured me to buy. It just seems like another kind of lube and I’d already gotten some. It seems redundant to me.’

‘It’s not. Trust me.’ John hugged the jar to his chest gleefully. ‘We’ll use this later!’ And put it into the pile of keepers.

After twenty minutes, John had gone through and discarded most items and was looking at the last two, somewhat perplexed.

‘A fox tail dildo, Sherlock? Stainless steel?’

‘Yes. Why?’ He asked defensively.

‘I am NOT wearing a tail up my arse.’

‘THIS is where you draw the line, John? Really?’

‘Don’t give me attitude. I’ve been agreeable to most everything but I’m not willing to commit to prancing about the flat with a tail hanging out of my arse!’

‘But, John!’

‘No. I’ll tell you what, though. We’ll try it on you first and see how you like it. If you do, then maybe at a later date, way way WAY down the road, I’ll let you try it on me. Deal?’

‘That really wasn’t the plan, John.’ 

‘Take it or leave it.’

‘Fine!’

John added the tail to the remaining toys and shoved them across the bed.

‘Come here, Sherlock.’ John said, patting his lap.

‘You’re still naked. I’m still naked. We should take advantage of that before the night’s over.’ John said, giving Sherlock a sly smile.

‘What did you have in mind?’ Sherlock asked, coming to stand in front of where John sat on the edge of the bed.

‘Lay across my lap. Put your head on this pillow.’ John quickly pulled a pillow down next to his side.

‘Why would I do that?’

’Sherlock, don’t be difficult! Get over my lap right this instant or I’m going to bed.’ John said sternly.

‘I can’t even ask a question?’ Sherlock began.

‘No. That’s enough talking for tonight. If there’s anything left to discuss, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now...’ John patted his lap again. 

Moving beside John, Sherlock lay down awkwardly across John’s lap.

‘Now what?’ Sherlock asked and received a sharp smack on his bottom for his troubles.

‘John! Ow! What was that for?’

‘No.’ *smack* ‘More.’ *smack* ‘Talking.’ *smack* John looked at Sherlock,

‘Do you understand?’ 

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply and John raised his hand again. ‘Ah ah ah. What did I say? Nod your head if you understand.’

Sherlock nodded his head reluctantly and buried his face in the pillow.

‘Good. First, more lube.’ Picking up the bottle with one hand, John spread Sherlock’s cheeks with the other and looked down at Sherlock’s still tight hole. He sighed heavily and his cock began to rapidly thicken.

‘So perfect. I’ve been dreaming of this arse for quite awhile now.’ John said, drizzling lube over Sherlock’s hole and then putting the bottle back on the nightstand. 

Still holding Sherlock’s cheeks apart, John slowly slid his index finger down until he’d reached that sweet dimple and began massaging it, gradually dipping his finger in and out until he finally bottomed out at his third knuckle. 

Shivering with excitement, Sherlock squeezed his cheeks together and tightened his hole on John’s finger.

‘Stop that!’ John said, slapping Sherlock’s ass. ‘Just relax and let me handle everything.’

‘Everything, John? You’re going to handle every THING?’ Sherlock said, receiving another smack to his bottom for his troubles.

‘Sherlock, I swear, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to go get that spikey dildo and shove it right up your arse!’ Then he commenced with giving Sherlock a proper spanking until his ass was red and hot, and still he continued on until Sherlock finally figured out that he needed to speak.

‘Ow! I get it! Ow! OW!! No more talking! Do with me what you will! I am putty in your hands!’

John grinned. ‘That’s more like it!’ 

John began patting around the bed. ‘Now what did I do with that prostate massager...’

Sherlock grabbed it and wordlessly handed it over his back to John.

‘Thank you!’ John said and, grabbing the lube again, proceeded to slather an almost comical amount onto the massager. It slid out of his hand and landed with a plop on Sherlock’s backside.

‘Sorry!’ John said. This was answered with an annoyed huff from Sherlock.

Sherlock raised his head and glared at John.

‘Stop thinking that I don’t know what I’m doing! Never been with a man before and I’ve definitely never had anyone else’s junk rubbing between my legs so give me a break.’ Sherlock pressed his cock against John’s inner thigh.

Looking up at the ceiling, John said, ‘This is going to be a long night.’ 

Bending his head back to his task, he slowly eased the toy into Sherlock’s rectum and switched the vibrator on. Sherlock moaned.

‘Yes. It’s going to be an amazing, gloriously long night.’


	9. The End?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hammering time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best writing to follow but I got stuck and I kept looking at the same chapter over and over, trying to improve it until I finally decided to just post is and let the chips fall where they may.
> 
> Hopefully, you'll still find it somewhat entertaining but if you don't, feel free to not post comments telling me about how I let you down.

Later that night...

***

“John! Oh god, John!” Sherlock cried out.

“There are only two more. You can take it.” John said as he slowly pushed the second to last bead into Sherlock’s rectum.

“One more.” John said, the fingers of his right hand holding Sherlock’s cheeks slightly apart so that could admire the nylon cord peaking out from that lovely pink hole. 

“It’s...good. Really, really good. I don’t think that there’s room for anymore though and I want you to fuck me, now John. Now!”

“You’ve become a bit vulgar since we started this.” And here, John tugged on the cord a bit, causing it to put pressure against Sherlock’s anus from the ball he’d just placed inside of him. 

“Oh god! I feel as if I’m about to explode!” Sherlock said, rocking his cock against John’s thigh. 

“You’ve been very patient...”

“I have. OOOOOH!!” Sherlock groaned loudly as John began pushing the final bead inside.

“There! All in!” John patted Sherlock’s bum. “Feel better?” Without waiting for an answer, John hooked a finger in the handle at the end of the cord and began slowly pulling the beads back out.

“Touch my cock. I need to feel your hand on me. Please, John!”

“Lift your hips a bit.” As soon as Sherlock obediently lifted his hips, John began stroking his cock with one hand, while slowly pulling the remaining beads out with the other. 

As soon as the last bead was out, John stopped stroking Sherlock who groaned in protest.

“Just a minute. Take a few deep breaths and relax.”

“Relax?” Sherlock panted. “I don’t want to relax! I want...JOHN!”

John smiled as he slid a second finger into Sherlock and held it there. He knew that he might be dragging this out a little too long. It was just so fucking exciting having Sherlock Holmes bent over his lap, accepting everything that John gave him. 

John could easily spend an entire night dedicated to teasing Sherlock’s arse. Every time Sherlock moaned, it excited him even more. He was so vocal. So exquisitely sensitive and responsive. This was such a heady feeling of power, taking Sherlock apart, bit by bit. Showing him pleasure that he’d never known. John hated for it to end.

There was a chance that Sherlock was now too excited to come though and John wasn’t about to let that happen and so he waited until Sherlock had stopped breathing so heavily then slowly removed his fingers. 

“Sherlock...?” John asked softly. No answer.

“Sherlock. I’d like you to get up and then lay on your back on the bed. I want to see your face the first time I fuck you. Can you get up?”

Sherlock made a half hearted attempt to get up but his legs gave out on him and he fell across John’s lap again.

“My legs feel a bit wobbly.”

“No worries. I’ll help you up.”

Once John had Sherlock up and steadied, he stood and helped him lay back on the bed. He looked like a debauched angel, with his curls in a messy halo around his head, his lower lip swollen from holding it between his teeth, the heavy lidded eyes, and the rosy tint to his cheeks...

“God, Sherlock. You’re just lovely. Do you know that? You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. You take my breath away.” 

“Kiss me, John.” Sherlock said, holding out his arms.

John climbed between Sherlock’s thighs, leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock’s soft lips which was eagerly returned. 

“I didn’t realize that I’d been biding my time, not really living, until you walked into that lab looking for a roommate. You’ve taught me to be a better person.” Sherlock said, cupping John’s cheek.

“And I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Sherlock said, pulling John’s face to his, their lips meeting tenderly until it turned into something more intense. Their tongues met and swirled around each other in between ragged gasps for air.

John lay on Sherlock and began grinding their cocks together. 

“You.” Kiss. “Saved.” Kiss. “My.” Kiss. “Life.” John said.

Sherlock wrapped first his arms and then his legs around John, pulling him tightly to himself. He reached over and picked up the lube from the nightstand, squirting a liberal amount into his palm, then carelessly tossing the bottle onto the bed. 

“I want you to fuck me, Doctor Watson.” Sherlock said, wrapping his hand around John’s cock, stroking and squeezing until it was almost unbearably hard.

Guiding John’s cock to his entrance, Sherlock said, “Now. Doctor. Fuck me now.”

John leaned in to kiss Sherlock again and began easing his cock into his hole, sliding in until was fully sheathed within Sherlock’s tight warmth.

“Ok?” John asked, holding still while Sherlock adjusted to the well endowed cock that now rested within him.

“I’ve just...I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s...as if we’re one person.” Sherlock said as he closed his eyes.

John began moving slowly with long, deep strokes, gradually increasing the speed until he could no longer hold back and began thrusting into Sherlock with enough force to shake the bed. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh and their moans were the only things that could be heard for quite awhile.

“Jesus, John!” Sherlock exclaimed as his prostate was brushed repeatedly by John’s cock. Wrapping his hand around his own cock, Sherlock began stroking himself in time with John’s now frantic pace.

“I’m going to come, Sherlock. I’m going to come inside you and make you mine.”

“Do it. Do it now! Come inside of me. I want to feel your cock pulsing inside of me while I come!”

As Sherlock began to come, he tightened around John’s cock. With a loud groan, John gave one last thrust, slamming into Sherlock as he came for what seemed like a long, long time, collapsing on top of him with a satisfied sigh. 

“That was...that was just...” John began.

“Yes. Yes, it was.” Sherlock said, kissing John’s neck.

“Am I too heavy for you?” John asked, raising his head to look into Sherlock’s eyes.

“No. You feel just right.” Sherlock said, pulling John back down to lay on his chest again.

“There are things that we need to do.” John said, making as if to get up again.

“Shh, John. There’s no hurry. Let’s just rest here a bit and we’ll worry about everything else later.”

John snuggled into Sherlock’s neck, breathing in the mixed scents of salty sweat, shampoo, and Sherlock’s cologne. With a sigh, he relaxed completely, his eyes drifting closed, his breathing becoming steady and soft.

Sherlock moved a hand to John’s head and began running his fingers through his hair. Kissing John on the temple, he closed his eyes as well. His hand stilled until it rested lightly on the back of John’s neck.

“Sleep, John. We have all the time in the world.”


End file.
